


Unerringly, Always, Forever

by nondeducible



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, It'll rot your teeth, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9352874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondeducible/pseuds/nondeducible
Summary: It's the day of their wedding and things get overwhelming for Sherlock.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my contribution to the johnlock fanzine! thank you to my best buds ashlo and soli for the beta.
> 
> potential trigger (?) - sherlock experiences a sensory overload but it's happily resolved.

John says yes and Sherlock doesn’t hear anything after the words leave John’s mouth. The world narrows down to John standing before him, all noises drowned out by the rush of blood to his head. Time speeds up, or maybe it slows down, becoming meaningless. He can’t move, and if he could, he’s sure he’d float away.

Sherlock takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and counts to ten. Never-ending streams of data become irrelevant background noise. Sounds and smells fall away one by one as he concentrates on his breathing. He stops hearing Mrs Hudson’s sniffling and his father’s quiet tears. He lets the sound of the creaking chairs drift away, along with the sounds of rustling fabric and the clapping and the cheering. He knows why they’re clapping and cheering, he  _ should _ know, but it slips away from him along with the noise. He lets go of the smell of flowers— _ lilies and carnations and roses and hyacinths and _ —along with his mother’s sweet perfume. 

He breathes in again, and the whole world disappears. It’s calm, peaceful. He opens his eyes, slowly, and knows what he will see.

John, eyes bright, their depths made vibrant by the afternoon sun. John, smiling up at him with a softness evident in the creases around his eyes. John, reaching out for him, unerringly, always, forever.

The touch of John’s skin on his, the gentle caress of fingers over his knuckles, is enough to punch his breath out of him. The reality of what has happened sets in, and the world narrows down further, closer, too close, pushing down on him. White noise rings in his ears, getting louder, the steady and fast rhythm of his own heart like war drums in his head. He can see light, so much light, and colours in his peripheral vision. He can’t look at them, they’re too  _ loud _ , too  _ big _ , so he focuses on John.

John’s brow furrows and his mouth thins into a flat line, the worry making his entire posture shift. He’s alert, defensive, protective. Sherlock wants to tell him, wants to explain, but he can’t. He opens his mouth but forgets how to speak, barely remembering he needs to breathe instead. A broken noise claws its way out of his throat and Sherlock panics, tries to catch it into his hands, turn it around, swallow it before it can reach John.

John hears it, of course he does, and says Sherlock’s name—his mouth makes it a deep, dark, worried sound—like he unerringly, always, forever does. He steps up to Sherlock, trapping Sherlock’s flapping hands against his chest, and engulfs him.

Sherlock breathes, closes his eyes, and lets go. He’s secure, protected, cared for. Loved. John is speaking, a low murmur just for his ears that he can’t hear yet, but feels it vibrating through his bones. Feels John’s hands around him, on him. Follows the paths they draw through his hair, along his skin. He reshapes himself to fit John, like water might flow and envelop a stone. He hides in John’s skin— _ soap, cologne, sweat, tears— _ and waits.

He comes back gradually, sensory information trickling in one by one. He breathes easy, and with it he inhales pollen from the flowers scattered around the room. His heart quiets down, letting him hear the soft words John whispers to him. His eyes open, slowly, letting him see the fine grey hairs at the edge of John’s hairline and the deep navy blue of his suit. He feels the tears on his cheeks, but feels no shame.

John moves back a step—knowing when it’s over, unerringly, always, forever—and wipes the tears away.

“Hello.”

Sherlock makes a noise in his throat, still unsure if he can find the words to speak. John doesn’t hurry him, instead he kisses his eyes, cheeks, lips. Sherlock stands still for a few moments before he tilts his head, and kisses John back.

John takes one of Sherlock’s hands, still clasped around John’s lapel, and pries it off. He lifts it to his mouth, kissing Sherlock’s hand and his knuckles. He pauses to look— _ left hand, ring finger _ —at Sherlock’s fingers. Kisses the thin, silver band that has bound their lives together.

“I love you.”

John looks up, smiling. He had smiled the same way when Sherlock told him he loved him for the first time. And every time for over two thousand times, until Sherlock stopped counting. John smiles at him—unerringly, always, forever—because Sherlock loves him. 

“I love you too.”

Sherlock smiles at that too.

John tugs at his hand gently, leading them both towards the door. Sherlock looks around, only now noticing the room is empty.

“Mycroft got everyone out,” John says, reading Sherlock’s thoughts. “You ready to dance, love?” He reaches for the door handle, but Sherlock stops him.

“John, I—” he falters. Pauses. “Thank you. For—for. You,” he finishes, wishing he could say more. He can’t speak, for different reasons, and hopes that John will understand all that he’s not saying.

Thank you for helping me. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for marrying me. Thank you for being.

“I know,” John says, unerringly, always, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> [get the zine here!](http://johnlockfanzine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
